


Valerie

by SarcasticSmiler



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:05:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSmiler/pseuds/SarcasticSmiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karaoke doesn't go quite like Nori thought it would.</p><p>i.e I heard a song on the radio and this came to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valerie

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a very long time since I’ve written any form of fanfiction, so please forgive me if it isn't any good. The only reason I made the attempt of writing this now was because the idea amused me after hearing the song on the radio and I wanted to see if I actually could write it down.

“Karaoke?” Dwalin asked, stopping rather abruptly upon seeing the flashing neon sign.

“Yeah. Drinking, off key singing, mocking people. Sounds fun,” tugging on his partner, Nori tried to coax him closer to the pubs open door. The aforementioned off key singing already drifting out to the street.

Thickly muscled arms crossed over an equally muscled chest, halting Nori's progress, “This is Bofur’s idea, ain’t it.”

“Maybe? Come _on_ , it could be fun.”

“It could be torture, more like.”

Sighing, Nori changed tactics. Pressing up against Dwalin’s front, fingers trailing the tattoos covering the crossed forearms, he looked up at his thoroughly unimpressed boyfriend through his lashes. “Please? You don’t even have to join in if you don’t want to. Just sit with Thorin, drink beer all night, and be your usual gruff, wonderfully intimidating self.”

“You won’t make me go up?”

“Nope, you only do it if you want to. Now come on, come mock people with me and grumble with Thorin.”

“Ok fine, but I’m not going up.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” rocking up onto his toes Nori pressed a quick kiss to Dwalin’s bearded chin before tugging on his hand once again.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s happenin'?” Nori asked, plopping down into the chair next to a Bilbo who seemed to be trying his hardest to become one with the furniture, sliding down further into his seat with a groan as the opening bars of Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’ filled the air.

“Thorin,” Bilbo mumbled in a rather pained fashion.

“This should be good,” Bofur added, dropping down on Bilbo’s other side, smacking the shrinking man on the shoulder.

“I hate you Bofur.”

“Ok, seriously what happened while I was takin’ a piss?” Nori asked, eyeing the grin currently taking over his lover’s face with suspicion.

“Bofur challenged them to a bit of a drinking game,” Bilbo’s expression becoming more pained as he continued to watch his fiancé making a bit of a fool of himself on stage attempting what he could only assume was some form of dance move.

“I was gone for all of ten minutes. There’s not a single drinking game you know that’s over that quickly, Bo,” Nori turned from a grinning Dwalin to glare at his friend, “What did you do?”

“I may have called them cowards for not taking the shots I brought over.”

“You started clucking at them, Bofur, called them chickens,” Bilbo added. Nori groaned.

“What? Come on even the lads took the shots when those two old grumps said no,” Bofur argued, making Nori finally look at Thorin and Bilbo’s nephews. The lads were almost falling out of their seats as they leant against each other, whispering and giggling to each other between cheering their uncle on.

“What did you give them? Vodka? Rum?”

“None of the above,” Bofur grinned as Thorin finally finished his song, weaving on his way back to the table, high fiving Dwalin before collapsing in the seat vacated by the burly man.

“Whoa! Hold up, where are you going?” Nori asked, frantically grabbing for his lover’s tattooed hand. Dwalin’s grin merely widened as he drunkenly dodged his boyfriend’s grasp, sauntering up to the stage to select a song. “Bofur, seriously. _What did you give him?_ ”

“I may or may not have snuck them some absinthe,” Bofur hedged, twirling the end of his moustache round one finger while watching Dwalin clamber onto the stage.

“ _Fuck._ How’d you manage that?” if there was one thing guaranteed to make Dwalin do something out of the ordinary it was absinthe. There was a reason he avoided it.

“Told them it was Sambuca,” Bofur shrugged, “They seemed to buy it.”

_“Well sometimes I go out by myself, and I look across the water…”_

“Is that an Amy Winehouse song?” Bilbo asked as he pushed his glass of water towards Thorin, he wasn’t looking forward to getting his drunk love home.

_“…And I've missed your ginger hair…”_

“No, oh _fuck_ no, baby why?” Nori squeaked, words muffled as he covered his face with his hands, pink spreading across his cheeks as he hid, “Just don’t change the name, _please_ don’t change it.”

_“Why don't you come on over, Nooorii?!”_

With a pained groan, Nori’s forehead met the sticky wood of the table top. A small hand patted his shoulder as Bilbo slunk back into this chair in sympathy.

_“Did you have to go to jail, put your house on up for sale, did you get a good lawyer?"_

“Oh this is good,” Bofur chuckled, phone clutched in the hand furthest from Nori as he captured the moment.

“If he remembers this in the morning then you’re a dead man, Bo.”

“I dunno, I think this might be worth the risk.”

_“Why don't you come on over, Noorii?”_

“I hate you, Bo.”

A rather inelegant snort was his only response from the grinning, hatted wretch.

When the song finally ended Nori raised his head, watching as Dwalin gave an exaggerated bow to Fíli and Kíli’s hollered applause before finding his way back to their group.

“Up, com’on, up,” he slurred as he wrapped his hands round Nori’s waist, lifting the small man before taking his seat and settling him back down on his lap.

Nori sighed as the burly man at his back nuzzled into his neck, large hand wrapping around the thick red plait running the length of his back.

“Seriously Bofur, so dead if he remembers.”


End file.
